From the East my dawn arrived and routed Night,
A fresh dew settled on the rose of the world. 30
I am waiting for the votaries that rise at dawn:
Oh, happy they who shall worship my fire!
I have no need of the ear of To-day,
I am the voice of the poet of To-morrow.
My own age does not understand my deep meanings, 35
My Joseph is not for this market.
I despair of my old companions,
My Sinai burns for sake of the Moses who is coming.